


Awl or Nothing

by mystery_deer



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Anger Management, Canon-Typical Violence, Elias is not present but he's mentioned, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Melanie King I love you, Non-Graphic Violence, going back to my roots...lesbians, not on this site but like my life roots, of sorts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:20:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24168727
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mystery_deer/pseuds/mystery_deer
Summary: Melanie blinds herself in the archives but first a brief meditation on anger and love and letting go of one to fully embrace the other.
Relationships: Georgie Barker/Melanie King
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	Awl or Nothing

Georgie held her hand above the flame. “See?” She said, unflinching. “Nothing.”  
“Okay, there are like a billion ways to demonstrate that without putting yourself in danger!”  
Georgie tilted her head, now putting her hair dangerously close to the fire as well. “How?”  
“Like...watching a horror movie? Or something?”

Georgie laughed and Melanie smiled nervously, eyes still on Georgie’s too-close-to-the-fire everything.

Melanie worried that night that she’s the fire.

“What if…” She started, sitting cross-legged on Georgie’s couch which still smelled a little bit like Jon. She tried not to hate that. She tried not to feel the archives closing in on her even here.  
“Does the fear thing- is it only body?” She asked, trying again. Georgie looked back at her, smiling in the way she did whenever she was looking at Melanie. 

“I don’t-”  
“Yeah! Yeah sorry that was dumb. I didn’t-”  
“It’s okay-”  
“Yeah fuck sorry, I just didn’t say it right.” 

Georgie was quiet as Melanie tried to gather her thoughts. She reached out with a hand and Melanie took it, feeling her heart flutter. Shit.

“Does...can you feel fear with people?” Georgie hummed. “I mean like, if someone was bad...like other people have red flags you know? That kind of fear. Can you feel it still?”  
“No.”  
“Oh.”

Georgie leaned close, kissing Melanie’s cheek and she was - wow she really was close wasn’t she?  
“But I’m not an idiot you know. I know what’s bad for me.” Georgie’s eyes were blank and black as usual. Not a dark brown but an all encompassing blackhole color that made dread sink into her chest when she looked too closely.

“Is…” Melanie paused. She hated this stuttering, unsure version of her. Early on in their relationship she would agonize over every tied tongue, go over conversations ten times with her heart racing. _Where had she fucked up? Where had she fucked up?_ “Is this?”  
“No.”  
“Oh.” They kissed, soft and safe. 

“You’re good for me Melanie.” Georgie said, smiling.   
And she believed her.

\----------------------------------------

“Has therapy been going well?”  
“It’s...hard.” Melanie said. Georgie nodded and didn’t press, waited for her. Melanie had learned not to become skittish in these pauses, learned that Georgie’s face didn’t contort to annoyance and pity as soon as she turned around.

“I don’t like spilling my guts to some stranger. It feels...weird. And yeah of course there’s all this bullshit spooky horrorshow stuff but it’s also...me.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”  
“With you?” Georgie smiled. Melanie realized how much she liked her smile. How much of her day was distinctly absent of joy. When she’d first started working at the archives she’d thought maybe they had a problem with her, maybe that was why they glared and whispered and ran. But she’d become a creature like that too, the longer she stayed there. Well, not quite like that.  
She never ran, did she?  
She never whispered.

Georgie’s voice cut through her thoughts like a- _A knife in her hand, a knife in someone’s throat. A knife in someone’s gut, a blade warm with blo-_ “No, with the Admiral.” She handed her a mug that was some weird tea mixed with alcohol (Georgie had far too many teas it was insane, Melanie just stuck to green).   
“He’s licensed.”

Melanie coughed and tried to hide her shaking hands as she sat beside Georgie at her tiny kitchen table that was littered with coffee stains and paint chips and papers of research on ghostly happenings. “How does your cat have a better career than me?”  
“I saw a drama channel make a video about you the other day!”  
Melanie rolled her eyes. “Great.”  
“It was very well informed, they got some really good photos of you!”  
“This needs more alcohol.”

\----------------------------------------

As soon as Jon told her about the eyes she knew she was going to do it.  
Of course her first instinct was _No, no absolutely fucking not. You’re not going to fucking gore your eyes out Melanie._

But something deep inside her knew she would. Knew that she would do anything to free herself of this place. To free herself of night after night of Elias holding her by the chin and forcing her to look at her father writhing in the smoke and flames, dying again and again and again, a death so painful that she woke up choking on grief and hearing the ringing of a fire alarm in her ears.

To free herself of this other warped herself that she’d become. The part of herself that was angry, angrier than she knew she could be. The part of herself that whispered to her that that anger was good and necessary and strong and anyone who told her different was weak weak weak weak weak and could be crushed under her will. She couldn’t tell the difference between comfort and cruelty anymore.  
And when she wasn’t angry like that, when it was all washed away she was tired. So tired and shaky and hollow. Bird boned and broken. All or nothing. She was sick of it. Sick of being watched, being toyed with, laughed at. 

She was done.  
So she knew she was going to do it.

In artifacts storage she sat there for a moment, shaking too hard to do anything. She was full of fear, white-hot and everything. She clenched her teeth so they didn’t chatter and shut her eyes tightly as she reached for her phone.

“Hey! You okay, I thought you were at work?” Georgie’s voice relaxed her immediately. She sighed with relief, standing and walking around the room. When she felt a spike of fear she opened her eyes and saw something there. A painting of a woman, a sculpture of a dog, a chameleon drawn in pen on the wall, an eye carved into the wood of a shelf. Looking. She turned them around, drew over them, slashed an X into the iris. 

No one would watch this. This was hers.

“Yeah, sorry. I just wanted to hear your voice I guess.”  
“Oh!” Georgie exclaimed, giggling. Melanie felt her heart flutter even now. Her girlfriend’s cuteness truly knew no bounds. Even down here in the belly of fear and horror, love could reach her. 

“Um…” She considered telling Georgie what she was going to do but decided that no, she couldn’t. What if she tried to talk her out of it? What if saying it out loud was too much and she couldn’t bring herself to do it? She smiled ruefully. What a Jon move. 

“Hm?”  
“I love you. Like, so much.”  
“I love you like so much more.”  
“Are we doing this? Is this the hill you want to die on?”  
“The I love you more hill? Absolutely. Have to die somehow might as well be for love.”

Melanie crouched down on the ground and covered her face as she began to cry silently. She wondered if this was the last time she’d be able to or if tears came from somewhere behind the eyes that would be preserved. 

“Sorry was that too gruesome?”  
“What? No, no sorry I’m...hard day.”  
“Oh no! Do you need anything? I’m free to talk if you want to.”

Melanie stared at her hands, stared at her phone and at Georgie’s name and wondered if she’d forget this or if she’d miss it and wondered which would be worse. She couldn’t wonder if it’d hurt because then the smell of smoke would begin to drift into the room. 

“Nah, I’ll be ok. But can you send me a picture?”  
“Of what? Are you sure you're ok, you sound weird?”  
“Of you. I’m fine. It’s a bit echoey here and I don’t have a good signal in the basement.”  
“Been there. Okay, I’m sending you three. My top ten greatest hits.”  
“Three pictures are your top ten greatest hits?”  
“It’s more of a spiritual top ten.”

She laughed as she looked at the pictures, studying every bit of her. Her smile, her eyes, her dimples, her hair. She wanted to remember it all. She wanted to drink it all in until she was bloated with her so she’d never run out.

“You look hot.”  
“I know.”  
“You look beautiful.” Georgie was quiet for a bit and when she spoke again it was soft.  
“Thanks. Are you sure you’re ok?”  
“I’m gonna quit.”  
“The ar-? Oh that’s great! That’s great news! I thought you couldn’t-?”  
“I found a way.”

They were both quiet as Melanie wiped her eyes and got up, walking over to the tool lying on one of the many desks. She ran her fingers over the smooth wood.

“Melanie?”  
“I have to go, sorry.”  
The fear had gradually ebbed away into something human. A tense apprehension, an instinctual _nonononono_ instead of an overwhelming flood. 

“Melanie.”  
“I’ll call you back, I promise.” She ended the call and set her phone close by. She didn’t know if Jon had a phone come to think of it, he might need to use hers to call. She smiled, Jon would probably have a Nokia or something. Playing snake in his off time.

Her hands still shook as she raised them but something in her clicked and was steady. She was going to be free. A rush of memories washed over her. Georgie hugging her, Basira laughing at one of her jokes, Martin glaring at her, Jon and her fighting over ghosts, ghosts running after her, her dad’s smile, her ex-coworkers and her singing along to something in the car. Georgie. Georgie kissing her and holding her hand and laughing and teasing and arguing and rolling her blackhole eyes and telling her _Melanie, I love you._

She would be able to hear her say it even if she couldn’t see her lips move.  
Her breath hitched.  
She would be able to feel her hand in hers even when she couldn’t see their fingers intertwine.  
She opened her eyes wide.   
Georgie would still be there after this. Even if her image faded from memory.  
She screamed, long and strong and _loud._ A battle cry. She would stare unflinchingly into what would be the end or the beginning.  
Her phone rang.  
The awl.  
The awl.  
The awl.  
The awl.

Nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> To be clear Melanie isn't giving up being angry altogether but the toxic all or nothing emotional rollercoaster that she was on. Anger isn't a bad emotion on its own but it can be bad to let it consume you wholly. I relate to Melanie a lot in that sense!


End file.
